


Temples

by Lothlorienx



Category: AtLA - Fandom, Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, LoK
Genre: Aang-centric, AtLA, Comfort Reading, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, Drabbles, Gen, Korra-centric, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothlorienx/pseuds/Lothlorienx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Switching back and forth in perspective, both Aang and Korra experience the Air Temples as only they could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Korra: Blue

If there was one prominent thing in Korra's mind, it was the color blue. A soft blue, soft as the sky, fading into a light blue that eventually turned white. Eventually, where blue began and where it ended was a mystery to her.

Whenever she thought of the air temples, recalling them from memory, she always thought of the color blue first and foremost. No matter how many times she had been within the temples, how many times she explored, how much she learned, or how long she stayed. It was always the color blue.

When she went back down to the ground, and back home to her friends and girlfriend, it was blue that she imagined more than anything else, the blue that crept into her dreams and filled them till the sky was overflowing with color. The blue of the sky, and the pale blue of the clouds, for nothing was truly white up there. Everything was tinted with a palette taken from the heavens above, and the temple was never just a temple.

Sometimes, the stone was glossy, reflective. Most of the sides of the buildings were like that. Smooth and polished pieces admist the rougher textured stone that still looked smooth to touch. When the daytime was upon the temples, they shone various shades of blue and colors that bounded off each other into greens or purples or grays. Dark gray stone or dark green clay was no exception to the painted, artistic effect that consumed the architecture.

And then there were the sunsets and the sunrises.

When the sun touched the horizon, the sky exploded with a million colors; fiery hues mixed into dark jewel tones that bordered the edges of clouds turned to flame. Ambers and violets, pinks and golds, and pale cold stars up high in the deep blue depths that faded to black.

The temples mirrored all these colors; so many colors etched and painted across the high up temples detached from the world. Everything looked like a treasure chest, of gold and diamonds and opals of every color.

But when night came, it was dark and blue again.

Korra came to love these particular changes, of being in the Air Temples. Scenery like this was a far cry from the clogged streets and cluttered skyline of Republic City. The stars never shone in Republic City.

In the towers far up in the temples, where the air was thin and you had to use bending to breathe, an entire nebula was stretched across the sky for her to see.

"Beautiful," Korra whispered.

She sat down, cross-legged on top of a dial modeled in the stone. Wide-eyed, she gazed out at the sky around her, painted with a million stars and a thin mist of color against the black of the night. All around her was darkness and light and beauty.

And a haziness of color; all she had to do was look for it, and she would see it.

Tenzin had never brought her up this high. He himself had never been this high, at least as far as Korra knew. He usually stayed down below, with his siblings (if they ever decided to tag along), and spent the time reminiscing about the history, remembering all the times Aang had showed him how to fly off the side of the cliff.

So this was a rarity.

Korra could feel the presence of someone here long ago, using her spiritual powers. No one had sat in that specific spot for over two hundred years or so.

Korra felt all warm and tingling inside at this knowledge. Rare, indeed, she though with a small smirk.

She let it ebb off of her face before she pressed her knuckles together, and closed her eyes. Meditating had never been her strong point, but she kept getting better and better at it. At least she had been to the Spirit World. Tenzin hadn't taught her to chant, or to really do anything specific other than focus and control her mind.

Korra felt an ebbing within herself as she relaxed, surrendering herself to the sensations around, and her helpless place within the universe.

Long ago, it would have scared her beyond her wits. That someone as powerful and important as the Avatar could be so insignificant in the entire world, and even smaller in the entire universe. She didn't exist on the grandest of scales; no one did. And maybe years ago it would have scared her witless, but now it comforted her.

She had been trying to learn what it was like to be normal.

To just be a person.

She was Korra first, and the Avatar second. Having discovered her identity so young was what Tenzin had said had ruined her (though he didn't put it in those exact words). That because she had spent her whole life living up to her Avatar prowess, she hadn't learned to truly be herself.

But now she was trying.

Even when meditating on top of the highest Temples in the entire civilization of the Air Nomads, surrounded by a metaphysical entity that she knew wasn't Raava but the world itself, she felt freer than she ever had in her entire life.

It felt beyond heavenly to feel so free and detached, and she wondered why she hadn't done this sooner.

Korra's breaths evened out slower and slower, at the pace of every ten seconds.

Inhale, ten seconds passed.

Exhale, ten seconds passed.

And then it continued again. Tenzin had taught her to count out the seconds and wait, but now she didn't need to, because she had become expert at it.

You've grown so much, Tenzin had said to her just hours earlier.

And I'll continue to grow, Korra thought to herself.


	2. Aang: Memories

Aang remembered his life in two parts: before he was frozen in the iceberg, and after he was freed.

Those were the only two times he bothered with, before the iceberg and after the iceberg, for nothing else in his entire life ever came close to matching such an extreme change.

When the Air Temple loomed before him, high in the sky surrounded by a vapor-like mist, his eyes flooded with tears. The Southern Air Temple he divided into two different sections, too. The Southern Air Temple now, and the Southern Air Temple back in its prime.

When the temples were filled with life. Lemurs and sky bison and wind hawks. And people, so many people, of all sizes and ages. His friends and his family. Before the iceberg.

"Yip yip," Aang said dismally, signaling for Appa to descend.

Appa let out a groan and then flew down, descending in the air and landing down upon a large stone patio specially made for sky bison landings. The surface beneath them seemed to shake as Appa dropped down the last foot or so, a loud echoing going through the empty, hollow temple and making all the skittish animals scatter.

Aang jumped down, bending a small circle of air to soften his landing.

Putting his hand on one of Appa's furry legs, he turned and stared vacantly ahead. The towers loomed before him, higher now, and he had to crane his neck backwards to see the tops of the enormous structures. A small smile came to his face, and tears rolled down his face.

"Hey! Hey, Aang!" A distant voice echoed in his head, small and childish. "Come play with us! We're gonna see who can make it all the way to the top of that tower!"

Through the haze of his tears, which blurred the reality of then and now, Aang could see all his past friends, so small and dressed identical to him; all of them bending small little spheres and tornados of air and then leaping like a monkey from branch to branch, all up the temple walls.

He could almost hear the tsking of the adults as they watched on, the old meditating monks looking disapprovingly at the young ones' game.

Aang heard his own laughter.

Far away, from the past, for there was nothing to laugh about now.

He couldn't laugh even if he tried. With a sigh, he dropped his head, cutting off the memory right then and there. Aang gave Appa a soft little pat, then told him to roam about as he liked. Appa groaned again, and Aang walked his separate way.

The stone steps underneath his feet echoed loud his footsteps. It seemed so vacant to him, so sad.

If he held his breath, Aang thought that maybe he could hear the ghosts of his family, still here after all this time. Trapped somewhere in the Spirit World or in this world or in between, still going on with their daily chores and conversations and games.

Maybe not.

They all had to have known they were dead.

Aang took a few more steps. He didn't know which was worse; the deafening silence or the footsteps echoing in the deafening silence. In the center of the main room of the main tower, a large dial was carved into the stone in the middle, and Aang walked onto the center. Spinning, he observed the details of the artwork. It looked similar to a giant compass, crossed with ancient artwork depicting the sun.

The work was so old, probably not even Roku or Gyasto could have recalled the time it was carved. And all their ancestors before them, not being here to witness the carving.

The sound of a twig snapping outside startled Aang out of his trance-like thoughts. He gasped in shock, his fight-or-flight instinct about to drive him away, but he calmed himself quickly. Then, another feeling started surging around his body, pounding in his blood and uplifting his spirit.

A crazy thought came to him.

A thought that maybe the sound came from someone from before the iceberg. A friend young or old, or just any old airbender that happened to be collecting mint leaves or peaches from the trees and bushes.

"Hello?!" Aang called out, and started running from the dial to the large, carved threshold. He called again, expecting to hear a familiar voice call back to him. One breathy and calm.

Aang's feet lifted off the ground and he bent a sphere of air beneath him, landing on it cross-legged and scootering the rest of the way outside, glee emanating from his every pore.

When he got there, however, he saw no one.

He looked around, still not unable to accept the reality that someone might not be there, that everyone was thousands of miles away or long dead. Aang jumped high up on the temples, landing on the elaborate stone carvings and peering this way and that. Only when he saw Appa step on a large, fallen tree branch a long ways away did Aang finally accept the truth.

With a sigh of defeat, he slumped back down, sitting down on the large precipice that adorned the higher temple walls, far off from the main tower. He buried his head into his arms, clutching his knees to him protectively. Again, tears started to burn at his eyes.

"Why did I even come back here?" he asked himself.

There was a lump in his throat that was difficult to speak past.

The question stung him worse than any whip ever could have. The question rolled around and around in his mind, spinning like a tornado, sucking his spirit dry. Why did I even come back here?

Oh, right, he reminded himself, drying his eyes and looking back up. Because I need something.

Bracing himself yet again, he jumped high from the ledges of the towers, expertly making his way up the temples and finding a familiar window. The window to his old bedroom, where he spent many a night in the temple laughing and rejoicing and sleeping well, without nightmares interfering.

"So many memories," he thought aloud, looking around the room.

Everything looked completely untouched, like it should be. If it were not for the thick coat of dust on almost every surface, and stains from harsh weather that nobody had cleaned, he could have mistaken it for his room before the iceberg.

He searched around the room until he found what he wanted: a complete set of Pai Sho tiles, now antique in this world. Carved by the Airbenders themselves from over one hundred years ago; the style was different from the Pai Sho sets he'd seen elsewhere in this after iceberg world of his.

Aang reluctantly turned to leave, to fly back down and give Appa another few peaches for his hard work flying. And then go back to all his favorite hiding spots in the temples, and reminisce over statues.

The statue of Monk Gyasto still stood, and Aang thought of visiting that first. But Monk Gyasto felt more in touch with this room right now, than he ever did when Aang stood outside by his carving.

"Thank you, Monk Gyasto," Aang said to the empty air, and bowed slightly.

He could only hope that Gyasto had heard him, wherever he was now.


	3. Korra: The Last One?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — "may the bridges you burn light the way"

She awoke from a nightmare, with sweaty palms and damp hair. Her hand flew to her forehead as she panted, trying to rid the already fading visions from her mind, until eventually she didn't know what she had seen or heard, but was left only with the vague feeling of impending doom.

Korra looked out the window, seeing the stars shining in the dark night sky with all their glory. She tried to pick out constellations in the night sky, instead of focusing on the claws of fear squeezing at her heart.

It was no use.

Korra tossed the bedsheets off of her, and walked out of the small bedroom that she used as her own, dressed in nothing more than a tank top and her sleeping pants, her brown hair loose and tangled.

The corridors were dark, but she didn't care. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she really care, but all she wanted to do was rid the place of her nightmares. Walk them off and then maybe try to go back to sleep. In a different room, perhaps. The Air Temple was practically abandoned anyway, so there wasn't any shortage of other rooms for her to sleep in.

She let her feet blindly take her to wherever their destination was.

To her eyes, it was nothing more than a darkened labyrinth with no point of beginning nor end. But her feet knew the way; they carried her to where they wanted to go, a subconscious place where only the back of her brain could lead her to in her half-asleep state.

Korra climbed the stairs, her bare feet against the cold stone not even making her shiver. She was from the South Pole; nearly nothing could freeze her. So when she felt the approaching chill loom from a black threshold and ghost across her skin, she didn't even blink an eye.

Into the blackness she went, unseeing.

She didn't know what this place was, but her feet seemed to know just perfectly where everything was. Korra didn't bang into anything that might have been in the room. She could sense the presence of other things around her, when they got close to her skin.

The objects emanated with cold.

Statues, Korra realized. Dozens of statues, all surrounding her in a spiral.

Lighting a burst of fire in her palm, Korra illuminated the blackened room to see all that stood around her. She was in the chamber of the Avatars. Of course she was; she'd just had a nightmare about them, her memory of her nightmare coming back to her suddenly, now that she was surrounded by the stone Avatars. It was about Aang again, seeing him being crushed into a thousand little pieces as he disappeared forever from the Spirit World.

She sighed glumly and looked down at her feet. Stark shadows danced across her skin and stone as light flickered uncertainly across her.

Korra stood between Kyoshi and Kuruk, the waterbender and earthbender. Oddly enough, she felt more drawn to Kyoshi than to Kuruk, despite the fact that they shared the same race and the same core element. Korra looked up into the stoic, stone face of Kyoshi, forever carved into that one spot. Forever unmoving, and yet forever here.

She'd always be right here, no matter what Korra let slip past her fingers.

At least she had that knowledge to comfort her. Korra brightened the flame in her palm, holding it up closer to Kyoshi's face, trying to see her better. The stone was so lifeless and cold, and although Korra looked directly into her face, she didn't see Kyoshi. All she saw was a piece of carved rock.

It didn't look like Kyoshi. Not truly.

With another glum sigh, Korra dropped her eyes from Kyoshi, ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she had let Raava be torn from her and then having her almost destroyed forever. And now she was the only one. She didn't deserve to look into the face of an Avatar so noble; that's what she told herself.

That was then she noticed the deep set-in line drawn between the two statues, connecting their forms. Dark and deep grey the line was, and as she let her eyes travel along it, looking deeper into her own past, she saw that it was swirling, spiraling as it connected all the other Avatars together.

She could only see as far as a firebending woman with the light that she gave off, but she knew what lay beyond that. An entire tower filled with Avatars, all along the wall, spiraling up higher and higher until the floor below was nothing but a speck. Ten thousand years of history, all erased.

Thanks to me, Korra thought bitterly, tears stinging her eyes. She wiped them away with her free hand, and turned to her right, back to Kyoshi's stone skirts, and the dark line beneath her pedestal.

Korra walked on, from Kyoshi to Roku to Aang. The line still continued, and Korra knew that one day she would have her own statue carved and then placed on that line.

But…

"That's strange," Korra whispered, her eyes narrowing.

From Aang's place in the near center of the room, the line only went so far on until it stopped. A spot, dead center in the middle of the room, with only place for one more statue before there was no more left. No room for another statue.

"Was…was I supposed to be the last…?" Korra thought then. She shook her head, no, trying to clear it and get it on straight again. But the sleep clouded in her mind, and she thought it again. Was she supposed to be the last Avatar?

The spiral would be complete with her statue…

So she just assumed…

Korra heard the clicking of nails on stone and heavy footfalls. She knew who it was, even before she turned around. "Hi, Naga," she said, offering her a small smile. Naga's tail wagged slowly as she was greeted. She nudged her nose up against Korra's arm as if trying to tell her to come back to bed.

The look set in her deep, brown eyes made Korra's smile deepen. Naga still had puppy eyes, even after all these years. Korra scratched her head with her free hand, as she held the flame in her palm away from her. Naga didn't much like the heat, either.

Korra looked back to the end of the spiral, contemplating some more.

Naga whined, and Korra turned back around again. "Okay, okay," Korra said softly, petting Naga and giving into her demands. "Let's go back to bed," she said, and dropped her hand, the flame dying off into the air.

Korra gave one final glance back into the dark room, making note to come here tomorrow. Maybe she'd find some kind of spiritual awakening in that room, if she focused long enough. Concentrated, meditated, did whatever she needed to do.

Naga whined again, low in her throat, as she noticed Korra lingering near the threshold. "I'm coming," Korra said absent-mindedly, and let her feet carry her back to bed.


	4. Gyatso: In All But Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — “he is my son, in all but my blood”

Gyatso picked up the young airbender in his arms. He was so small, but his mind was large. He could already see that as the tiny Aang looked all around him, his eyes wide with wonder, as he took in the sight of the world.

His hands reached out, small fingers curling, as he tried to catch a wisp of a cloud in his hand.

Aang’s mother sat nearby. She watched her son with steady eyes, taking in all the small movements he made just the same way Gyatso was. Her deep brown eyes followed Aang’s hands as he reached out again, trying to capture something in his hands. When the boy thought he had caught something, he pushed his fist to his mouth, trying to taste whatever it was he thought that he had caught.

“He is curious,” said Aang’s mother. There was a certain pride within her.

Gyatso smiled. “Yes, he is. Curiosity is a good thing to have. For where would we be without curiosity?” Aang made a cooing sound as he pulled his fist away from his mouth, and then uncurled his fingers to look at his palm. He saw nothing, but both Gyatso and his mother could tell that he still thought he had captured something.

His mother laughed a little, and stood up from her seat. She extended her arms, and Gyatso placed the small child in her embrace. She pulled Aang close to her body, and stroked his head soothingly. He still had wisps of dark brown hair, since he was too young to be shaved.

“His third birthday is coming up,” his mother said to Gyatso.

Gyatso nodded. “It is indeed.”

His mother sighed. “I know what that means.” She paused. Shifting Aang to her side, she walked to the balcony of the temple, look outwards across the sky. All she could see was an endless canvas of blue and whites and navies mixed together. A storm was gathering on the far horizon, as the clouds built to a dark gray.

“It means that I will have to step back as his mother, and his father in turn, so that he won’t remember us as his biological parents.” She seemed sad then, as if she didn’t like the idea. 

Well, she didn’t like the idea. She wished that she could mother Aang for another year or two, before she had to set him down on his feet and let him wander freely. It was according to airbender customs. When the child got old enough, his parents must step away, so that the child would grow up with only mentors. It was true, the parents could be his mentors.

But it was such that the child only know two things: adults and children. He could be with his parents all he wanted, so long as he never acknowledged what or who his parents were. 

They raised children like this so as not to encourage favoritism. If the child knew that two people here were closer to him than the others, then the child would start treating them differently. So it was like that; step away before he could understand the difference, and let him choose who he liked and didn’t like.

Aang’s mother shifted him again, placing him closer to her breast. Aang’s small hand reached out, and he clasped the beaded necklace that she wore around her neck. He played with the beads, and the pendant with the carved airbender symbols in the center. Even flicked the tassels, which earned a delighted squeak from the child.

Gyatso placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “I know you must be dreading this,” he said, “but you will still be able to see him everyday.”

“That does make it better,” she responded. A small smile came to her face, but it didn’t reach all the way up to her eyes. Her gaze turned from the horizon to Gyatso. She took him in, sizing him up.

“It is not too late,” Gyatso continued. “If you want, you could still be his caretaker. So long as you never say you are his mother, you could have him with you for all his life.”

Aang’s mother shook her head. “No. I’ve made the right decision. Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to help myself.” Aang made another cooing sound, and both of the adults looked down at him.

“He is so sweet,” his mother mused, her smile widening.

“He is indeed,” Gyatso agreed. He stepped closer, and put his hand out to the child. Aang saw his hand hovering in the air above him, and he reached out to take the monk’s hand, wrapping his fist around two of his fingers.

“I’m going to take him back to his room,” his mother announced suddenly. “He should rest. Besides, I want to spend some time with him alone.” His mother turned, and Aang slowly released his grip on Gyatso’s fingers. 

Quietly, he watched her walk away, taking her child back to her room in the temples. Gyatso smiled to himself, watching them until she turned the corner and disappeared entirely. With nothing else to watch, Gyatso turned to look at the approaching storm once more.

It was building, with the gray clouds darkening and rising higher. He estimated another two hours before the storm reached the temple. With no other responsibilities he had to attend to, Gyatso decided to sit upon the ledge of the balcony, and watch and wait for the storm to approach.

A few years later, Aang saw his father again.

True to custom, he didn’t recognize him. Didn’t know that he was his father. All Aang saw him as was another monk with a kind face and soft voice. He showed his father all the airbending skills he had learned, again and again making a perfect sphere of the surrounding air currents, before dropping his hands and running off to play with the other kids.

“He’s doing well,” Aang’s father said to Gyatso.

“He is indeed,” Gyatso agreed. 

A long moment of silence passed between the two of them. Gyatso went back to baking his cakes in the over, using his airbending to lift them just perfectly. He was so focused on the task at hand, that when Aang’s father spoke again, he jumped.

“Sorry,” he said when he saw Gyatso jump.

“No, no, it is nothing,” Gyatso replied, calming himself. “Now, what was it you were saying?”

“His mother and I would like to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Gyatso was taken aback. “What for?”

“For being his caretaker,” he replied. “His mother and I, we never would have been able to do it. Our love for him would have blinded us, would have tainted his upbringing. We never would have been able to help ourselves to calling him our son, and he would have…”

His father’s words faded into silence.

Gyatso waited for him to finish speaking. He was expert at patience, so he could have waited an eternity for his sentence to come to an end. Gyatso pulled the next cake from the over, airbending it so that it would rise just the same way the other cake had. A perfect shape, and then he set it on the ledge of the balcony to dry.

“We would have him know too soon,” his father finally finished.

Gyatso nodded, understanding. Most children didn’t find out who their parents were until some time during puberty. When they asked where babies came from, and then after being told, they would ask who had made them. Aang hadn’t asked anything yet, so Gyatso and everyone else didn’t have to reveal anything.

“I thank you for putting your trust in me,” Gyatso said. 

Aang’s father smiled, and then walked away before Aang came bounding up the steps again, jumping high with spiraling currents of air beneath his feet. Gyatso smiled, and opened his arms for Aang to jump straight into.

“Did you see that?” Aang asked. “Did ya, did ya, did ya?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” Gyatso said. “What did I miss?”

Aang wriggled free from him, and jumped back down to the ground. Within a second, he was bolting down the stairs again, into the courtyard. “Here, let me show you!” he yelled, and began his airbending again.

Gyatso watched Aang speed around, doing all sorts of fun tricks and games. 

He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but already he was starting to think of him as his son. He knew too well what Aang’s father had been talking about; if Aang had biologically been his, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself. He would have him know too soon about what he wasn’t supposed to know. Would have him learn favoritism too soon.

Even if he sometimes doubted how effective this method of raising children was, he followed the customs all the same. It was tried and true, and he wasn’t about to break it on the off chance that Aang would understand his teachings all the same.

So Gyatso watched the energetic child whirl around the courtyard, thankful that Aang was not his and never would be. But still, he felt for the child. He only hoped that Aang wouldn’t ask him too soon where he had come from.

And hoped that his love for the boy wouldn’t blind him.

He went back to making his cakes.


	5. Korra: Morning Grogginess

When the morning came, Korra was out of bed in an instant. 

She was so high up in the clouds that there was nothing to shield her from the bright rays of the sun when it entered her room through the curtain-less window. She groaned as she got up, pressing a hand to her forehead to ward off the headache she got from her eyes.

Korra only opened her eyes when she heard a chirping, brambling sound. She turned to see a winged lemur sitting on the window sill, almost quietly eating a peach. Korra stopped to watch the lemur.

When said lemur noticed it was being watched, it locked eyes with her for a split second, then bounded off the ledge and into the air. The lemur’s wings spread wide, peach still in mouth, as it fled away from Korra and back down to the fruit trees in the vacant courtyard.

Korra dragged herself out of bed, and went into the bathhouses that the adjacent tower housed. She bathed quickly, and the cool water pouring over her skin woke her up better than the sunlight ever could. She wrung her hair dry, then used airbending for the rest, making sure to leave just enough moisture.

After that, she just stood there, naked amongst the stones, not knowing what else to do.

Tenzin had left two days ago, with one of the flying bisons from the meadows, and he wouldn’t be back for another two days. Asami was down on the ground, in a small, nearby village, claiming that she couldn’t stand the altitude anymore. She had gotten sick from the thin air around the temples, and desperately needed something sea level.

The other people, who still lingered around the temples, simply didn’t care what she did. They were only here to help restore life to the old airbender monuments. Since they were new airbenders themselves, their presence here was “greatly appreciated,” as Tenzin had said.

Korra had nothing to do today.

No training. Not if she didn’t want to. No meditation. Not if she didn’t want to.

And she didn’t really feel a desire to. She only felt the desire to crawl back into bed, throw her head on the pillow and the blankets over her body, and fall back into a deep sleep.

It wasn’t like her, to not want to do anything. But as she stood, staring at the stones of the bathhouse, still shining with drops of water spread over the surface, she just couldn’t find the desire to do anything.

Not train or meditate or socialize or study. 

The only thing on that list was to help rebuild. Rebuild what the Fire Nation had destroyed, and attempt to restore what was forever gone to the past.

Rebuilding it was.

Korra dressed herself slowly. Briefly she considered pulling on her socks and boots, then decided against it. A lot of airbenders said that bare footing was good for the temples because of sacred ground, or something like that. Korra couldn’t really remember. Tenzin had bored her two minutes into the lesson, and now she simply didn’t know.

“So why is it that you always wear shoes?” she remembered asking him.

Tenzin had said something like, “Don’t question your teacher.”

To which she responded about debating being good for learning and had been valued in old Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation schools. Which had then lead to an argument where Tenzin had stormed out and told her to do her own research, and then a long overdue apology two days later.

As Korra made her way down the stairs, she heard a few people nudge their friends and whisper, “It’s the Avatar!”

Korra ignored them all, and went down into the courtyards, where the lemurs were jumping and flying from tree to tree, eating peaches galore. Korra heard the chirping and brambling sound above her. Looking up, she recognized the lemur above her as the same one who had sat on her window.

The lemur leaned forward in the tree, nose twitching.

Korra stood still.

The lemur leaned forward even more, then took a hesitant step down closer to her. When the lemur sensed she wasn’t a threat, the jumped all the way down from the tree and landed on Korra’s shoulder.

Korra was surprised. Holding up her hand, she let the lemur sniff her before she pet it’s head. It’s eyes closed, and it took another bite of peach as it leaned into her hand.

“Cute little thing, aren’t you?” she asked it.

It made another chirping sound as an answer.

Korra walked on, towards the temple where she knew most of the new airbenders would be. They usually gathered around here for the morning, eating breakfast and making small talk with each other as the sun rose. The lemur didn’t even budge when Korra started walking along with it on her shoulder. She gave a smile and small chuckle as she shifted her eyes to look at the lemur on her shoulder, eating peaches like her shoulder was the most natural perch in the world.

“You wanna spend the day with me?” she asked the unmoving lemur.

The lemur gave another chirp as a response.


	6. Aang: Birthday

“Aang, I don’t mean to be ‘that guy,’ but is there any reason for us to really be here? You sure you’re not just rubbing salt into a wound?” Sokka asked behind him.

“Of course there’s good reason to be here!” Aang responded cheerfully. “The peaches are in full bloom!”

“We came all this way just for peaches?!” Sokka yelled.

“Shh!” Aang said, spinning on his heel and putting a finger to his lips. He walked over to Sokka and leaned in close, until his lips were only an inch away from his ear. “We don’t want to scare anything. Keep your voice low.”

“Right,” Sokka huffed, but he did as Aang said anyway.

Aang bounded up along the path, using his airbending to make him leap high into the air, and land without a sound. Sokka only dragged his feet as he followed him, scuffing his shoes and kicking small rocks along the path. Aang gave a final leap, and he floated down into the nearby peach tree, where he crawled along the branches like a lemur.

Momo flew up to the tree with him, wasting no time on plucking a peach straight from the branch and gobbling it down. 

Aang took his time selecting the peaches. He turned each one around before snapping the root, and tossing it down to Sokka. Sokka caught them easily, and stuffed them in his bag, next to the sheathed knife he had. He wanted to complain and grumble, but he didn’t. There really wouldn’t be any point to it. 

Aang seemed too close to snapping anyway, despite the seemingly joyful mood he was in.

Another peach was thrown his way, and Sokka caught it and ate it.

“What are you doing?” Aang shouted suddenly, startling Sokka so much he dropped the peach. “You can’t eat the peaches! Not yet!” Aang jumped down from his place amongst the trees, and then knelt to the ground to pick up the bruised peach laying in the dirt.

“What? Why?” Sokka asked, his words jumbling together. “I didn’t know! Why can’t I eat them? Momo gets to eat them!”

“You can eat them,” Aang replied, setting the peach back down on the ground with a sigh. “Just not yet. These peaches are very important to me!” He stood back up, and with a fantastic airbender leap, he was back up in the high treetops once again. "Besides, Momo is just a simple lemur!"

“Right. Sorry.” Sokka grumbled, but Aang was too high up to hear him. 

He went back to collecting the peaches Aang floated down to him, giving each of them no more than a glance before setting them in his bag. He was hungry; the long flight on Appa had took its toll on him. And Appa was already eating, being fed in the same place where the young sky bisons had slept with their companions of the first year.

Sokka knew something was up, as he begrudgingly picked all the peaches and put them away. When Aang was satisfied with the fruits of his work, he leaped back down to the ground, landing within a small spiral of spinning air.

“Great!” Aang said, clapping his hands as he took Sokka’s bag from him and hauled it away. Sokka followed suit.

Aang walked into one of the temples, where the ceiling opened up into the sky and bright, pale blue met them from all angles. The sky blue seemed to bounce off the gray stones of the temple walls and floors, and Sokka had to close his eyes to ward off a sudden blinding-headache.

Aang set Sokka’s bag on the floor.

“Aang, you still haven’t told me what we’re doing here,” Sokka said again. His voice slightly echoed in the space. 

“Just wait and see, Sokka,” Aang mumbled quietly. “Just wait and see.”

Yeah, sure, whatever, Sokka thought to himself, but he did as Aang asked anyway. He didn’t know what Aang was getting at, or even why they were here. All Aang had told him was that he needed to come here today, for some special reason, and that he didn’t want to go alone. So, like the best friend that Sokka was trying to be, he said that he’d go with him. After all, most of the others were busy doing something else on the other side of the world.

Katara had gone off to help Gran-Gran, who was feeling increasingly ill. Zuko was in the Fire Nation, doing his Fire Lord things. Toph was with Zuko, still saying that she deserved her life changing field trip with him. So Sokka it was.

Though, now that he was here, he was starting to get apprehensive. Because, after all, what was the harm in eating a simple peach?

“Hey Aang,” Sokka said again, speaking a bit louder than he meant to. He’d already forgotten how cavernous this place was, and how his voice was amplified with all the spherical hollows in the place. He looked up, as if he could actually see his voice bouncing around the place.

“What is it, Sokka?” Aang said, his voice even louder than his.

“What exactly are you doing?” Sokka asked him, finally looking back at Aang, who was knelt before the bag of peaches they had brought in from the garden.

“I’m inspecting the peaches. That should be pretty obvious. Especially for someone with your 'expert detective skills.'”

I know there’s something up when Aang’s cracking jokes at me, Sokka thought. Especially with the mood he's been in all day. And the day before that.

“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on with all of this?” Sokka shouted. He cringed a little as his ears were bombarded with his own voice.

“Just be patient,” Aang replied.

Sokka sighed, and slumped his shoulders. Whatever, he thought.

Without a word, Aang picked up the bag and started walking out of the main temple, and into one of the cavernous hallways. Both Sokka and Momo followed him. Aang whistled a small little tune to himself, much to Sokka’s annoyance, and expertly found his way through all the twists and turns in the maze of the Southern Air Temples.

But when Aang came to a balcony, and then gave another grand airbender leap high up into the air, Sokka couldn’t follow. Momo spread his wings and flew up into the air with him, taking off and leaving Sokka standing alone on the balcony.

“Oh, come on!” Sokka groaned, and went back into the temples to try to find the way up to wherever Aang had jumped to.

When Sokka finally found Aang, after what seemed like hours later (though it was only about forty five minutes), Aang was sitting crosslegged in the middle of an open kitchen, the bag completely emptied of peaches and the flames from the oven burning the ashen embers.

Aang bowed his head, his fists pressed together, and not saying a word. He heard Sokka approaching, so he opened his eyes and lowered his fisted hands back down into his lap. His eyes were only set in front of a peach cake he had made himself, which was on top of a broken plate from long ago. It looked so dismal and joyless.

He knew what Sokka was going to say even before the words left his lips.

“Aang, can you please tell me what’s going on, now?!” Sokka demanded. 

Aang took a deep breath. “Today’s my birthday,” he whispered. “I wanted to celebrate it the same way as before the iceberg. I think I might have…”

“Oh,” was all Sokka said in return.

Aang closed his eyes again. He heard Sokka’s footsteps approaching him, and his clothes shuffling as he maneuvered to sit down next to him. He adopted the same crosslegged, arms-crossed, slumped-shoulders look Aang had to him.

“Well–uh–thanks for inviting me,” Sokka tried lamely.

Aang gave a small smile. “Thanks for coming,” Aang said as brightly as he could. He lifted the deflated peach cake on the broken plate and held it up in front of him. “Make a wish,” Aang whispered to himself, and spun his finger around the top of the cake. A tiny tornado sprung from his finger, making the tip of the cake rise up into a horned spiral.

“What’d ya wish for?” Sokka asked him.

“That one day, the air temples will be filled with airbenders again,” Aang responded.

Without another word, Aang and Sokka ate the peach cake together. Aang’s smile gradually grew wider as he spent his birthday with Sokka. Sokka was good company, and a lifelong friend of his. But something more than that was lifting his spirits; he felt as if he may one day have his wish.


	7. Aang: Thanks Katara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " - when i thought i had nothing, you were there"

Aang didn’t care if he looked desperate or hopeless or pathetic or what anyone might call him. When he saw Katara land on the sacred ground of the abandoned Air Temples, he ran to meet her. Not even thinking, he air sprinted his way over to her, throwing his arms around her and clutching his body to hers.

Aang didn’t even care that he was now crying, with his tears soaking into Katara’s clothes, the blue fabric becoming darker with the stains of his tears.

“Aang…?!” Katara said, obviously worried. 

She lifted her arms free from his grasp, and wrapped them back around him again. She patted him on his back, but soon Aang sank down to his knees, still crying into her clothes. He held the loose hem of Katara’s top, a single arm wrapped around the back of her knees.

“Aang! Talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong!” she said, and dropped down to her own knees in front of him.

Aang couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t even try to form words. He didn’t want to, nor did he need to. No words could convey what he was going through, the emotions that were running through him. Katara only hugged him tighter, and he pressed his head into her breasts, trying to gleam some comfort from her.

“Aang, please. If you don’t talk to me, you won’t get better.” Katara was patted his back, rubbing it up and down like a mother would soothe a frightened child. 

Eventually, Aang’s sobs stopped, and he was left with only a melancholy emptiness. He said nothing, felt nothing, but he still leaned up against Katara like she was the only thing that kept him from drowning in an endless, imaginary sea.

“You can talk to me.” Katara was almost whispering now. “You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t judge.” 

Aang still remained silent. 

Katara sighed when she realized that he wouldn’t be talking for a long time, and only closed her eyes and leaned her chin down on the top of his bald head. Already she could start to feel the little strands of hair starting to sprout out of the top. She remembered when she had first seen him, and how his blue arrow looked so strange to her. And then remembered the stolen Fire Nation ship, when he had finally woken from his coma.

“You’re not having nightmares, are you?” she asked Aang.

Aang shook his head, no. But he said and did nothing more. His breath was calm now, and he was discreetly trying to meditate, as the monks had taught him to do so long ago. Over one hundred years, but still to Aang, it felt like only a couple of days. The memory of the monks teaching him to meditate was still so fresh in his mind. 

“No,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “No nightmares.”

Aang’s voice caught Katara by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to say anything. Minutes had passed by since she had uttered the question, and only now was Aang starting to find his voice.

“Then what is it?” Katara asked patiently.

“It’s…” Aang tried saying, but another round of sobs broke his words.

Katara soothed and shushed him some more, trying to make her arms a sanctuary for him. In whichever way she could. She didn’t care how horrible a thing Aang had gone through because she always knew that she could fix it. She could heal any wound, and she knew that she could heal Aang’s…

…but she didn’t know what it was.

“Come on,” Katara said gently, and picked Aang up off the ground. She carried him into the temple before setting him down on a nearby bench. The temple was starting to come together once more. Cushions were on the bench, and tended plant life sprouted all around the stones. Some of the vines had been cleared away, placed back along the trees and ground and outer walls instead of creeping inside and covering the faces of the stone statues of famous monks and deities.

Aang leaned forward and looked at his feet.

He studied the two small, blue arrows on the tops of his feet, pointing down to and then past his toes. Pointing him in the direction he was supposed to go, wherever his feet would carry him. Forwards, and never backwards. That had been was the monks had said. Each arrow meant something. It was not just of the sky bisons, but because of a larger part of life that few could ever understand.

He sighed deeply, and closed his eyes.

Katara put her hand on his back, rubbing him up and down. She could comfort him only so much, but in the end this was something more than physical. Hugs and hands and soft words wouldn’t calm him. A deep emotional talk brewed just beneath the surface…or a confession perhaps. Or just a teary, long rant about his life, about what Aang had gone through.

Honestly, Aang didn’t know what he needed.

Maybe it was closure, or maybe it was memories. Maybe peace, or maybe validation. Maybe it was all of them, or maybe none. Maybe it was just for this place to feel alive again, or for it to not echo with the sounds of wind and silence. Maybe all he needed was a small part of the past to hold onto. Not a stone in his hand or a room in his old home.

Something real and living. Momo and Appa didn’t seem enough, he was ashamed to say. There needed to be more.

“Remember all those years ago when we saw the burned forest?” Katara asked him, drawing him back to the present. Aang’s memory swam as he tried to picture what Katara had mentioned.

Slowly it came into view. A scorched land, black and brown and barren under the winter sun. Things didn’t seem as sad now, since it had all grown back. But the memory was still stark; a forest alive and a forest dead.

“Yeah…” Aang said. “So…?”

“So…I think I know what’s bothering you. Right now, the Air Temples are just like this burned down forest.” Katara paused, waiting to see how Aang would react. She saw his pout turn into a near scowl, and he looked away from her. “But remember what I said. Seeds are everywhere, and all the trees and creatures that lived in them will grow back.”

Aang still said nothing.

Katara put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around, forcing him to look at her. Still, he couldn’t meet her eyes. Katara didn’t care; she spoke directly to him, he would hear her through all of his grief. She had that kind of talent.

“Well, right now, the Air Temples need seeds…so to say. People. A life. A culture. And then, all the people and animals and spirit here will come back.”

Katara smiled, as if that was somehow the magical answer to it all. 

Aang still didn’t raise his eyes to look up at her. Katara only kept her hand on his shoulder, reminding him that she was still there. He could look away from her, he could try to ignore her words, pretend that she wasn’t there, but he couldn’t stop feeling her hand on him. She was there.

Aang placed his hand on top of hers.

He sighed so deep it made a small whirlpool within the circular temple domes, and his shoulders slumped. It wasn’t positive, but it was acceptance.

“The Air Acolytes would love to see these places,” Katara murmured.

Without a word, Aang threw himself into her arms again, and he didn’t let go. Not for a long time. Words so long ago spoken to him echoed in the dome of his head:

Love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us. The Air Nomads love for you has not left this world; it’s still inside of your heart and is reborn in the form of new love.

And even then, Katara’s face appeared before him, the smoke and mist slowly forming into her as his grief vanished. So he clung to her, the love of the Air Nomads reborn into one person, the only person who kept him steady in an after-iceberg life. Aang knew that she wasn’t an Air Nomad, that she wasn’t his entire nation and life and memories and culture, but as he held onto her, it helped him to believe that she was.


	8. Tenzin: Field Trip

Korra was five years old when Tenzin first brought her to the Air Temples. 

They had gotten there via sky bison…the first time Korra had ever ridden a sky bison. “Can Naga come?” Korra had asked Tenzin, giving him her best puppy eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”

“No, Korra,” Tenzin had told her. “Oogi isn’t comfortable around polar bear dogs. And truthfully, I don’t blame her. Polar bear dogs are meant to be wild. However did you manage to tame one?”

“Oh, it was simple!” said young Korra. “Just give her treats and she’ll follow you around, and make a bed for her and she’ll be happy and give you kisses! If you make a bed for her and give her little fishes at the same time, she’ll follow you home.” She beamed, proudly thinking of her tame polar bear puppy.

“That’s very interesting Korra,” Tenzin said. “Now, are you going to come with me? Your parents and I have been planning this for quite some time.” That, and the White Lotus isn’t too keen on having you out and about, so take the chance while we still have it, Tenzin thought.

Korra sniffed. “I’m gonna miss Naga,” she said, her voice wavering.

“You won’t be gone long…you’ll soon see her again,” he said. “Now climb aboard! We’ve got to get going.”

Hoisting her small bag up over her shoulder, Korra climbed aboard, tugging at Oogi’s white hair as she did so. The sky bison gave a few huffs in protest when she tugged at a clump of hair particularly hard, but he let her climb up all the same. When Korra had tied her bag down and found her seat in the saddle, Oogi took off for the skies.

The first time Korra had flown too.

“Wow!” Korra said, her eyes wide. She crawled towards the edge of the saddle, watching the world go by beneath her. It was mainly sky and ocean and icebergs, but she could see the land fading in the distance. “This is so cool!” she said. She began bouncing up and down, trying to contain her excitement.

“I’m flying! I’m sitting in the sky!”

Tenzin smiled as he listened to her.

“Don’t lean too far out,” he told her. “You might fall off.”

“I’m the Avatar!” Korra said proudly, thumping her chest. “I’m not afraid of falling!”

Tenzin smiled and shook his head. “It has nothing to do with being afraid. It has to do with me losing you on the ride and your parents biting my head off it that happens.”

“They’ll bite your head off?” Korra asked, bewildered. “Not even Naga would do that!” She was quiet for a moment before saying; “Okay. No falling.” She crossed her arms and sat back down, near the edge of the saddle. She watched as the ocean passed beneath her.

She soon grew bored, despite the fact that she as flying.

She started counting the icebergs, to as high as she could count (ten thousand; she didn’t know what came after that), and then started watching for birds. None. They were too far out to sea. After another hour passed, she started bugging Tenzin.

“I’m bored!” she complained.

“Patience, Korra. We’ll be there within another hour or so.”

“But I’m bored now!” she said, slapping her knee. “Do something.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

Korra shrugged. “I dunno. Something amazing I guess.”

Tenzin chuckled softly. “I thought sitting in the sky was something amazing.”

“But it’s boring!” Korra whined. “Do something else. Can you juggle? One of the Lotus members can juggle. He used to juggle all the time. He promised to teach me to juggle one day.” Korra pouted. “Can you juggle, Tenzin?”

“No,” Tenzin replied. “I’m afraid not.”

“Then what can you do?” Korra asked.

“I can airbend,” Tenzin said with a smirk. “I’m the greatest airbender alive!”

“You’re the only airbender alive,” Korra said.

Tenzin frowned. “Yes, you’re right about that. But look,” he said, attempting to smile, “I can do this!”

Tenzin bent a small sphere of air in his palm. Korra brightened and said, “Cool!” she reached out for it, but her fingers passed through it. She tried to grab it again and again, but nothing. “I can’t get it!” Korra said. Tenzin bent the air sphere closer to her. It flew around her head, over her hair, before Korra was crawling over the saddle to get it.

Finally, it disappeared.

“I wanna do that!” Korra said. “I’m the Avatar! I can do that!” 

She put her hand out like Tenzin had and tried to bend the air, but instead she got fire. “Dang,” she said, and tried again. Fire. Fire. Fire again. She just couldn’t get the air. “I’m the Avatar,” she grumbled, and tried for the air sphere again. A sphere of fire erupted from her palms and spun between her two hands.

“Damn it!” Korra shouted.

“Language, Korra,” Tenzin told her.

“I can’t do airbending!” Korra whined.

“You will one day, Korra. You just need to practice.” Tenzin heard Korra crawl back up over to him, and then saw her finally sit down next to him, near Oogi’s head. 

“Is that why we’re going to the Air Temples?” she asked.

“Partially,” he replied. “But also for you to reconnect with your past.”

“My past?” Korra wondered aloud.

“Yes,” Tenzin said with a nod. “Your past. Your history. Your heritage. Your past lives. Did you know you had past lives, Korra?” Tenzin saw her shake her head, no. “Well, you do. My father was one of those past lives.” He stopped talking then, and looked out to sea. 

“Where is your father now?” Korra asked, trying to make her voice gentle.

Tenzin smiled at her, a warmth in his eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, “He lives in you.”

Korra jumped up in fear. “In me?!” she screamed. “I don’t want him in me. Is he like a ghost? A skinwalker? Dad says skinwalkers are the worst kinds of spirits!” Korra shuddered and started pawing her body all over, checking to see any signs of ghosts on her.

“Korra, relax,” Tenzin said. “He’s not a ghost, he’s not a skinwalker. He’s simply a past life of your’s. He was reincarnated.”

“Re imp and ated,” Korra tried to repeat. “What’s that mean?” 

“It means that when he died, he was reborn.” Tenzin got sad again. “I still miss him sometimes.” Korra sat back down, ashamed that she had asked Tenzin if his father was a ghost.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

Tenzin shook his head. “Don’t be.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. Korra took to looking back out at sea, but it was nothing really to look at. Just a bunch of open sky and open ocean, and endless sight of blue only broken up by some white clouds. After what seemed like an eternity, Tenzin announced, “We’re here.”

Korra saw a tall, slender mountain jutting up from the clouds. The land extended far out all around it, and buildings were carved straight into the rock. Korra’s eyes grew wide as she looked at it. It was beautiful, she could tell. The temples were tall, taller that even the highest mountain she had seen in the Southern Water Tribe. She had to tilt her head just to see the top. 

“Wooooowwww,” she breathed.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tenzin asked her.

“Yeah. Definitely,” Korra replied. She leaned forward, trying to get a better look, when Tenzin held out his arm to catch her.

“Be careful, Korra,” he told her. “You’re leaning too far out.”

Korra didn’t listen to him. She kept straining against his arm, trying to jump out of the saddle and get to the temples faster.

After what seemed like forever to her, Korra finally jumped off of Oogi, setting her feet on the carved stone dias in the center of the courtyard. Air Acolytes greeted her, and Korra hurriedly returned their bows. She was just about to run into the nearest archway when Tenzin stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Korra, these kind people have waiting for hours for our arrival. Surely you can show them more respect.”

Korra tried again, this time bowing more slowly and drawing out each word. The Air Acolytes smiled in return.

“It is alright, Sifu Tenzin,” said one of the Acolytes. “I can only imagine what she must be feeling. To reconnect with her past life, and the spirit is floating right in front of her, waiting at the alters… Let her go. She must explore if she hopes to reconnect.”

Tenzin sighed, and Korra took off running, leaping up the steps and shouting with joy the entire time. Giant slabs of stone cracked and broke free from the ground, making a pathway wherever she jumped. Tenzin sighed and shook his hand, putting a hand to his forehead. The Acolytes themselves seemed somewhat shocked. 

“She…the temple…the sacred ground…”

All eyes were upon the fresh pillars that had ruined the delicately carved rock. 

“She’s like that sometimes,” Tenzin explained to them. 

An Acolyte shook her head and smiled at him, trying to put the pain of a destroyed courtyard pathway out of her mind. “No matter,” she said sweetly. “She is the Avatar. She will reconnect…”

“And perhaps get rid out these unsightly stone chunks, too,” Tenzin heard one of the Acolytes whisper.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Tenzin told them all, and slowly began his ascent towards the young Avatar. Even as he walked over and around the chunks of uprooted earth, he didn’t once think that bringing her to the temple was a mistake.


	9. Song: Part 1

Aang leapt into the room, his feet bouncing high in the air as soft currents propelled his feet upwards. 

In the room sat about a dozen women, all of them pleasantly talking amongst themselves as they did various chores. Mostly weaving pashmina capes and writing out prayers on scrolls, carefully choosing their mantras. As Aang bounded into the room, they all looked up and smiled at him, some giggling and others welcoming him. 

One woman in particular he wanted to see. A young nun named Song. She was one of his favorite people in the whole world, despite the fact that he really shouldn’t be choosing favorites. Still, she was kind and sweet and she really, really liked him. Aang could tell.

Song put down her scrolls and glided over to where Aang was.

“What is it, little airbender?” Song asked him.

“I’mfinallygonnagetmytattoos,” Aang said.

“What?” Song asked as she picked him up and set him down on a nearby cushion.

Aang took a deep breath and began again; “I’m finally gonna get my tattoos!” He was beaming, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Congratulations,” said Song. “Are you excited?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Aang shook his head vigorously, up and down like he was trying to mix paint in his skull. “Stop that, stop that,” Song said, putting her hands on his head. “You’re going to give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.” 

“I can’t help it!” Aang said. “I’m just so excited. The monks are going to give me tattoos all over my body, and I’ll have pretty blue arrows on my skin, and it will make me look so wonderful!” He paused, then said, “I’ll look like Monk Gyatso, or like you!”

Song smiled at that. She loved this boy so much. She put a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his skin. 

“Nun Song, is something wrong?” Aang asked, worried he had upset her.

“No, Aang. Nothing at all.” She put her hand back in her lap and straightened on the cushion. “So, is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No, no,” Aang said. “I’ll be getting my tattoos within a day or two, and the monks said that I’ll have to be shaved and thoroughly cleaned. Can you help me with that?”

With those puppy dog eyes, who could say no?

“Of course,” said Song, and she stood up. “Come with me.” 

She lead Aang to the bath houses, passing through the gardens and rivers and ponds, past the peach trees and small orchard farms, past the air ball court and the courtyard. When she finally got there, she saw two other women in the house, cleaning their feet before stepping into the sacred chambers where the statues of deities and ancient scriptures lay.

“Kowabunga,” Aang said as he rushed into the shallow bath. Song smiled and rolled up her robes, taking off a few extra layers. 

“Wet your hair,” Song said. “It’ll be easier to shave that way.” He did as she asked, but not before splashing around some more. Aang dived into the water, and swam around, pretending to be a turtle shark. Song chuckled as she waded knee deep into the water.

“Aang,” she said firmly, “come here and stop fidgeting.” 

“Rawr,” Aang said, using his fingers to make pointy-looking teeth.

“Aang…”

He waded over, moving into the shallows where Song waited for him. She ran her fingers through his short black hair, and took out her blade. Carefully, she began running the knife over his scalp. Despite her calm control, she was nervous holding such a sharp instrument so close to Aang’s head. He was still a child, so young and playful, still with so many years ahead of him. 

She shaved the center of his head first, knowing where the arrow was going to be tattooed to his skull. From there, she began shaving the left side of his head, careful not to make him bleed. Of course, he’d be bleeding plenty when the tattooing began. That’s why he had to be so clean; there was less chance of infection that way. After he got his tattoos, he’d need to be cleaned again, that time in cold water and stay in isolation for a day or two, depending on any complications.

“I’m so excited!” Aang said. He wanted to jump up and down and shake and dance, but that wasn’t such a good idea with a knife to his head. 

“I know you are,” Song said. When she was done shaving her head, she looked Aang over. There were other parts of him that she needed to shave; his underarms and his arms and his legs. After that, he really didn’t need to be so hairless again; but for this, everything had to go.

Song remembered when she was about to receive her tattoos. She wasn’t as excited as he was; she was scared, nervous. She was scared she was going to get an infection, or that it would hurt so much that she would cry, or that she would be sore for days on end. She recognized that nervous feeling plenty; it was the same feeling she’d had a month before childbirth. But her tattoos had never hurt that much.

“There,” Song said at last. “All done.” 

Aang looked over his body, examining his arms and legs and feeling his scalp over and over again. “This feels so weird,” he told her. 

“I know it does,” Song said. She looked outside the windows to see the sun setting below the mountainous horizon. She guessed she must have spent two hours shaving Aang’s hair. Now, she needed him to be squeaky-clean for tomorrow.

“I’m going to leave you now,” Song told him, standing up and reaching for her robes. “There’s cleansers made of mint, sandalwood, and tea tree oils. Use them in that specific order. When you are done, use the pumice stone on the bottoms of your feet. Understand?”

Aang nodded like his life depended on it.

“Good,” Song said, and made to leave. Before Aang could splash back into the pool and pretend to be a turtle shark again, she gave him one last look. She never thought she could be so proud of him. She loved him with all her heart, and she would do anything for him, but it wasn’t until today that she felt so proud of him. Her eyes watered, and she wiped the tears away.

_Good night, my son, _she thought to herself, then left him alone in the bath house.__


	10. Song: Part 2

The tattooing process was long and complicated. Aang was just one of the many young airbenders to be tattooed that day and night. Song was with him that day, bringing in the pots of light blue paint and sharpened bamboo sticks, along with an assortment of clean cloths and a bucket of cool, clean water. It was going to take hours upon hours, but Song had been through this before. She’d tattooed many children in her life; Aang was no different. 

Well, somewhat different. This was her son, her only child. It felt somehow strange and calming at the same time to be giving him his tattoos. 

Aang smiled at her as he took his seat on the big cushion on the ground, bouncing up and down, full of excitement. “Now, Aang,” Song said as she dipped the bamboo stick into the ink, “you can’t be bouncing around like that. You need to remain perfectly still and calm while you are receiving these tattoos.”

“Perfectly still and calm,” Aang said. “I can do that.”

Beside him, Monk Gyatso chuckled. “Oh, I’m not sure you can, young one. This will take more than a full day, and you will find that being stuck with sharpened bamboo quite unpleasant.”

“Especially as time goes on,” Song agreed.

Another monk and another nun came and sat around him, all in a circle. One tattooist for each of his legs, one for each of his arms. The spine and head would be left for last, that being to most important and delicate place of all. It would take great care to execute a perfect arrow and not cause any spinal or cranial injury. But Monk Lhamo was an expert, having been training at the art for over fifty years.

“Put your foot on my knee, and we will begin,” Song said, and Aang did as he was told. 

He leaned back against the wall, giving his other foot to Monk Gyatso. Monk Lhamo and Nun Yin had his hands resting on their knees. Perfectly synchronized, they all dipped the bamboo into the light blue paint, and began sticking him. Aang cried out in shock and pain when the bamboo punctured his skin, but they all paid him no matter. He was still, so that was all that counted. They all tapped against the bamboo, inking him blue in tiny dots.

Slowly, the shape of his arrows began to appear on the tops of his feet and the tops of his hands. Small blue dots forming the outline that would later be filled in, twice. Aang’s joyous smile had disappeared, and was replaced with a grimace. He said nothing, did nothing, but Song could see the pain in his eyes.

“Do not be so distressed, young one,” Song told him as she began moving up his calves. “We have all gotten our tattoos, and the pain will not last long. Try to focus on something else, and remember to distance yourself from the pain.”

“Yes, she is right,” said Monk Lhamo, “pain is more mental than physical. Control your mind and master your pain, and no longer will you be in distress.”

“Okay…” Aang squeaked out. “I’ll try.”

He didn’t really succeed. The most he could do was watch the young children playing around outside the temples and make the grimace from his face disappear. But as time went on, the children stopped their playing and went onto other parts of the temples. Some to play some more, others to do their chores. Aang had nothing else to look at except the winged lemurs eating peaches off the trees.

“Nun Song?” Aang said.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Can you tell me a story? To pass the time?”

Song glanced up at him, and she saw his hopeful eyes looking at her expectedly. Glancing around at the others, she saw slight smiles on their faces, and sighed. “Of course I will,” she said. The others smiled a bit wider, but continued their work.

“I will tell you the story of The Prince and the Airbender,” Song said. Aang wanted to lean forward till his nose was inches from hers, not wanting to miss a single syllable, but he couldn’t move.

“You’ll hear just fine,” Song said, knowing what he was thinking. “Now, sit back and listen.” Aang did as he was told, relaxing his muscles again just as Song began her tapping on the bamboo stick. “Long ago, there was a prince who lived in the Southern Fire Nation. He had everything he ever wanted; a life of comfort and health, with much food to eat and entertainment to keep the long nights busy. He had a beautiful wife and was expecting his first child. He was set to inherit the throne. But he also had material trappings as well; fine silks dyed vibrant colors, jewelry with expensive metals and gemstones and pearls, lavishly decorated chambers adorned with gold and silver…

“But the prince didn’t seem to like living in the palace. He was nervous, worried, and he didn’t know why this was. So he went to his father, who was a king in the Southern lands, and the prince asked him what the meaning of life was. The king thought for a long time, and then said that the meaning of life was power. He was expanding his territory into the North, and he held sway over all the Fire Nation citizens in his land. The prince thought that he was biased because of these reasons, so he left his father in his throne room, and the prince went to his mother.

“The prince asked his mother what the meaning of life was. His mother thought for a long time, and then she said, ‘Control.’ The queen, his mother, controlled many things, in both the palace and the royal guard. She controlled her children as well, and she controlled the trading deals with other kingdoms. The prince thought that she was biased because of these reasons, so he left his mother and went to his wife.

“The prince asked his wife what the meaning of life was. Without pausing to think, his wife told him that the meaning of life was love. The prince liked this answer very much, because although he sensed it was biased, he knew that the answer was pure and kind…and truthful. For a long time, he was content with living for only love, but still, he felt that life wasn’t complete.

“So one day, the prince left the palace with his daughter and his wife. The prince said that he wanted to travel alone, but she would have none of it. For, she said, with life comes burdens and responsibilities too, and you cannot just walk away from them. Sensing this was true, the prince and his family traveled far West, traveling across the Fire Nation in search of answers.

“One day, the prince came across an airbender. An airbender from the Southern Air Temple…”

“That’s where we live!” Aang shouted, suddenly excited. “We live in the Southern Air Temple!”

“That’s right, we do,” said Song, giving a slight nod. “One of our people had journeyed into the Fire Nation, him too searching for life’s great answers. When he and the prince met, it seemed like a match made in heaven. Together, they talked philosophy and reason and love and life. Together, they created a golden moment of enlightenment. The prince grew found of the nomadic ways of the airbenders, and he sought to meet more of them. But as the airbender told him, outsiders cannot visit the air temples.

“At this the prince grew enraged, and demanded to speak with more airbenders. He wanted to know our secrets and our way of life. The traveling airbender said that he would write home and see if any wanted to meet him, but again told him that an outsider could not see the air temples. When the prince heard this, he became so enraged that he was consumed in fire, fire that blazed many colors. Looking into the flame, you could see his fear, his doubt, his hope, his trust, his confusion, his passions… All that made him what he was was burned in that moment of complete and utter rage. 

“His wife and daughter mourned for his loss, along with the airbender whom he had become friends with. Together, the airbender and the former princess continued to travel onwards, traveling west to seek out what the meaning of life was. The princess continued to maintain that the meaning of life was love, and that all other reasons for living dulled in comparison. The airbender appreciated her idea of love, and he came to see it as a noble truth of life. Eventually, he and the princess created the Western Air Temples, where their philosophy and teachings centered on love and kindness as the key points in life. 

“As time went on, the Western Air Temple became full of airbenders, with each passing generation carrying the idea of love in their hearts. This is why the Western Air Temple became so important.”

“Wow,” said Aang once she was finished speaking. He had become so entranced by the story that he didn’t even know that the sun had set and that his tattooers were all the way up to his thighs and shoulders. “So is love the meaning of life?”

Song was quiet for a long time, focusing on just the tap, tap, tapping as she inked him. Then, “It has been debated many times, mainly by other Air Temples. We each have our own disciplines, despite the fact that we all follow our nomadic and peaceful ancestors. Love is a powerful force, and it can heal, and it can grow. Love is a wonderful thing to have, and to be loved…there is no feeling quite like it in the world.”

Monk Lhamo cut in just then. “Yes, it is true that love is wonderful, but it can also be harmful. Many great acts of violence and treachery have been committed in the name of love, and love, like all things in life, will never be perfect. Loving with all your heart is such a beautiful sentiment, but you must remember to treat it like all emotions. Be in control, be conscious of it, or else you will become lost, blinded by it. Do not let love enslave your mind.”

Aang had no words for that. He’d heard similar teachings all around the Air Temple, but only in snippets and passing conversation. He’d never been given a proper lesson on emotions and consciousness. One day, he’d have to go and listen as someone spoke to the young airbenders, telling them all of life’s lessons. 

“If we were in the Western Air Temple right now, would you tell me differently?” Aang asked Monk Lhamo. 

Lhamo nodded. “Yes, I know that I would tell you differently. But that is the way. We are shaped by our environment, not the other way around. We are shaped by our culture, and we are shaped by the people around us. Because of this, no one is truly unique. We are all a product of our upbringing.”

Nun Yin sighed and put the bamboo sticks back on the ground. “We are done for tonight,” she said, and dipped the cloths in the cold water. “We will clean your tattooing scars, and then we will begin again the next day. Make sure to keep yourself clean to prevent infection, and stay in your isolated room until you are summoned.” 

Aang nodded and bowed to her. As he stood up, his legs burned. He wobbled, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. 

“I’ll escort you,” Monk Gyatso said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Aang said with a smile as Gyatso lead him to his room. 

All around them, people were finishing up with their tattooing for the day. Many children had the same expressions, with sore muscles and wobbling bodies. No one had yet to start on the spines. That would take a long time, and Song was already thinking of the next story to tell Aang. She thought of other stories, such as The Lion Turtle and the Turtle Duck, or the story of The Creation of the Moon. But so far, she was favoriting the story of the Sky Bisons and how the first airbenders came to be. He’d heard the story before, but he always seemed to love it. Especially when she was the one telling it.

“Your love for the boy consumes you. As it does Monk Gyatso,” said Monk Lhamo. “Nun Song, make sure that you do not become lost like him.”

“Alright,” Song said stiffly, then walked away from him, carrying to pots of blue ink with her. Sometimes, Song thought that their discipline needed to be expanded, that they should be drawing philosophy from more than one source. The Southern Air Temples needed more variety, and more mantras. Much more. Maybe one day, she would journey and bring some back.

As she walked to her bedroom that night, she chanted to herself, old prayers and sutras that she had been taught as a girl and were deep in her heart.


	11. Song: Part 3

Aang was overjoyed with his new tattoos. He and a bunch of other eight-year-olds were running throughout the temples, showing anyone and everyone their new tattoos. Some of them didn’t even have shirts on; they wanted to show off that much. Aang was flying through the temples on his air scooter, stopping in front of the elders to point at his tattoos after giving them a quick, respectful bow.

“Those are so cool!” said a little five-year-old boy. “I wish I could have my tattoos now,” he said, stomping his foot on the ground.

“You will one day!” Aang told him, and then hopped back on his air scooter, racing to show more people his new tattoos. By the time he was finished, he was panting, out of energy and ready to just collapse in his bed. But he didn’t want to turn in just yet. There was still a certain sky bison to track down and show his tattoos to…

“Aang,” said a familiar voice. Monk Gyatso stood behind him, watching him patiently. Aang spun around and gave Gyatso and polite bow. 

“It is good to see you,” Aang told him before standing up straight. “What’s up?”

“I know you are happy to have your new tattoos, Aang, but that still doesn’t excuse you slacking off on your chores.”

“My chores?” Aang said, before slapping himself on the forehead. “Oh right! My chores!” He smiled and said, “Be right back,” running like the wind towards his bedroom. As fast as he could, he cleaned his room, dusting and lighting fresh incense. Then he went to the orchards, picking three baskets full of moon peaches, sindeela leaves, and raw ginger, before rushing to the kitchens where he gave them to the people there. They bowed to one another and Aang sped off, sending a torrent of winds rushing through the kitchens.

“Okay, done!” Aang said, standing in front of Monk Gyatso again.

“Are you sure?” Monk Gyatso asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Aang thought for a minute, and then slapped his head again. “Oh, right!” he said, and sped off again.

He ran to the sky bison quarters, brushing and washing their fur as quickly as he could and then setting out some new food and fresh water for them. He couldn’t find Appa, since he was still too small to live in the sky bison quarters. He was probably down in the green pastures with his brothers and sisters and cousins. Didn’t matter; he’d see Appa again soon enough. Once he was done grooming, feeding, and watering the sky bison, Aang rushed back to Monk Gyatso.

Before Monk Gyatso could ask him anything, Aang slapped his forehead yet again and ran off to wash a basket of clothes. Then sweep the floors of the temples (technically airbend the floors of the temples), then scrub the stones in the arches, then pour fresh rain water into the fountains. 

“Anything else?” Aang wondered to himself, scratching his head. He stood in front of the bubbling fountain, staring absent-mindedly at the figure of a woman that was painted on the stone. Aang remembered that Monk Gyatso had once told him who she was, but he was drawing a blank.

He remembered she was an Avatar. But not Avatar Yangchen. _‘Avatar Yangchen was from the Western Air Temple,’_ Monk Gyatso had told him. _‘This is an Avatar far older than her. She is…’_ And then his mind went blank. Still, he stared at the woman, trying figure out who she was, searching for her name deep in the recesses in his mind.

“Something troubling you?” 

Aang spun around to see Nun Song standing behind him. “You’ve just finished your chores, I see,” Song said, noting the empty water pail by his feet. 

“Yeah…can’t think of anything else I need to do…”

“Are you sure?” Song asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Aang scratched his head again, thinking of all the stuff he had done. He’d done it in a flash…or more like a breeze…but he’d done everything he was supposed to do today. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Aang said after a while.

Song smiled at him and stepped up beside him, following his gaze to the woman painted on the stone fountain. 

“Do you know her?” Aang asked Nun Song. “I know she’s an Avatar…one that came before Yangchen…but I can’t recall her name.”

Song looked down at Aang, wondering if he knew. Probably not. But still, Song thought that he should have felt a strange, supernatural pull towards her, even if he couldn’t understand why. Song looked back at the painting. “This is Avatar Sangyal. She was born here in the Southern Air Temple nearly two thousand years ago.”

“Wow,” said Aang, leaning in closer. He wanted to reach out and touch the stone, to run his fingertips over her painted robes, as though he could actually feel the soft pashmina and cotton under his fingertips. But touching the stone paintings was considered taboo. And besides, there was a Nun standing right there watching him.

“Nun Song?” Aang asked, a thought occurring to him.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Have any other Avatars been born in the Southern Air Temple besides her?”

Song looked straight ahead, unsure of how to answer him. Truthfully, no. Not until him. But he was still far too young to know that he was the Avatar. She herself wasn’t even supposed to know it, but she had been entrusted with this information by Monk Gyatso after he thought it best that she know. She didn’t know what to say. If she told him the truth, she would be breaking customs and putting Aang through stress he did not need to be through. On the other hand, if she lied, she would be breaking one of her oaths and would need to journey around the mountain in pilgrimage to make up for it.

Aang looked at her expectedly, wondering why she was not answering. “Are you unsure?” he asked her.

Before Song could reply, Monk Gyatso saved her. “Aang?” he called out. “Are you done with your chores?”

Aang spun around, the air swirling around him and spinning his clothes. “Yep, sure am!” he said, a smile stretching wide across his face. “I’ve done everything I needed to do today.”

“And so quickly too?” Monk Gyatso said. “Well, if I had known you can do your chores that quickly, then I’ll have to start making you go faster everyday.” He chuckled, and Aang laughed with him. When Aang opened his eyes to see if Nun Song was laughing, he found that she was gone.

“Hey. Where’d she go?” Aang asked.

“I’m not sure,” Monk Gyatso said. “Nun Song is entitled to her own privacy. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I can’t say that I very highly suspect that she has gone back to her room to gather her things.”

“Gather her things?” Aang repeated. “Is she leaving?”

Monk Gyatso stepped up to the fountain, dunked an empty drinking cup into the water, and then walked away, slowly sipping from it. Once he was gone from the common area, Aang raced through the halls, searching for Nun Song’s room. He’d been there only a couple of times, but he knew the way. It was in the women’s temple, on the third floor, and facing West.

Pulling the door open a sliver, he peaked inside. Song was alone, and she was folding a set of clean clothes for herself, wrapping them into a pack.

“Where are you going?” Aang asked, pushing her door open all the way and striding inside. 

Song jumped when she heard him. “Aang,” she said. Glancing up at the still-open door, she bent a current of air across the room, and the room slammed shut. “Don’t you know how to knock, child? It’s rude to barge in on someone like that.”

“Sorry,” Aang said. “Monk Gyatso said that you were leaving.” He walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

“I doubt Monk Gyatso told you that,” Song said, eyeing him and smirking. Aang blushed and rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the floor. “But yes, I am leaving.”

“Where?”

“It won’t be long. I’m just going to journey to the Western Air Temple,” Song told him. She continued packing. 

Aang looked back up at her, studying her. She was going to the Western Air Temple. Aang didn’t think he’d ever been there before. He wondered what it looked like, where it was, what the view was like, if there were any sky bison there. He let his thoughts run away from him, imagining the most beautiful and craziest temples he could ever imagine, run by talking sky bison and swirling with miniature tornadoes. 

“Can I come with you?” Aang asked suddenly.

“Hm,” was all Song said.

Aang pressed his hands together. “Pleeeeaase!” he said, giving her his best puppy-dog-moose eyes.

“You’ll have to ask your guardian, Monk Gyatso,” Song said. Before she had even finished her sentence, Aang was off, running like the wind. Song started packing her pots of soaps, teeth cleaner, and lotions when Aang returned.

“He said yes!” Aang told her, jumping up and down.

“Did he now?” Song asked him, rolling up her pot of witch hazel into the cloth with her other stuff. “I think I’d like to hear it from him.”

“Awwww,” Aang complained, slumping over. “I’ll go get him,” Aang said, rushing out the door, but not at the speed of wind anymore.

Song was with her sky bison, Lele, when Monk Gyatso and Aang finally caught up with her again. Aang carried a backpack with him, stuffed with clothes, soaps, food, drink, and other stuff he would need. “He said yes,” Aang said again.

Monk Gyatso nodded. “If it is alright with you, Nun Song, I said that it would be alright for Aang to travel with you.” Song glanced from Gyatso to Aang and back again.

“That will be fine,” Song said.

Aang leapt up with joy, jumping twenty feet in the air and leaving spiraling winds in his wake. When he came back down, he landed softly on his feet and rushed up to give Song a hug. “Thank you so so much, Nun Song,” he said. And then he gave Gyatso a hug, thanking him as well.

“Well, I’d best be off to the temple. Night’s coming in a the temperature is dropping. My old joints don’t handle this cold like they used to.” With that, he gave them both a fond farewell, and started walking back up to the temples where he knew that hot tea and a friendly game of Pai Sho awaited.

“Okay,” Song said to Aang, airbending herself on top of Lele. “Are you coming?” she asked when Aang didn’t jump up next to her.

“Can’t I take Appa?” Aang asked her.

“Appa is still a very young sky bison, and it is a long way to the Western Air Temple. He still hasn’t mastered flying from here to Mount Choyong. He won’t be able to make it thousands of miles while carrying a young airbender and his backpack,” Song told him.

“Okay,” Aang sighed. “I guess I’ll have to leave Appa here.” 

“Don’t despair,” Song told Aang. “We will not be gone long. You can go and say your goodbyes to him. I will be right here waiting.”

“Great,” Aang said, his face lighting up with a smile once again. “I’ll be right back,” Aang said, and took off for the green pastures, searching for his sky bison.

When he finally returned, Song secured his backpack onto Lele’s saddle, and with that, she took off into the sky, riding into the sunset with Aang behind her, lounging on the saddle.

“Hey!” Aang said, realizing something. “When I’m at the Western Air Temple, I’ll get to see Kuzon!”

“Yes, you will,” Song agreed.

“I can show him my new tattoos!” 

“Yes, you can,” Song said again. “But don’t get too restless, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

From the side of her eye, she saw Aang nod and lay down like he was about to go to sleep. They passed over the green pastures and past the rows upon rows of tall, jagged mountains, sticking up out of the earth like random, ragged teeth. Once they were past the last mountain the Nomads had named, Song said, “Yip yip!” and Lele sped off over the ocean.


	12. Song: Part 4

The Western Air Temples were different than anything he’d ever seen. He’d been expecting temples perched high on top of rough mountains; what he’d got were inverted temples hanging from the underlip of a giant cliff, carved from the very rock itself. 

“This is amazing!” Aang said, awestruck. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“It is quite amazing, isn’t it?” Nun Song said, smiling back at him. “I was your age when I first saw this temple, and it still takes my breath away every time I see it.” Song began to signal Lele to descend, and Lele started flying down to to sky bison landings, flapping her tail harder, eager for her long flight to be over.

Elaborate paintings of sky bison and clouds and swirling patterns covered the landing. Aang jumped down, not caring about his backpack, and ran over to one of the many large pillars holding the temple together. On the pillar was carved swirling, abstract patterns that reached up to the ceiling, painting a light blue and gradating into a pure white. The ceiling was painted white and covered with paintings clouds and mists and wind currents, and strategically placed sky bison flying through the ocean of clouds.

Aang looked up until he fell over onto the stone. Nun Song chuckled at him as she brought his backpack over to him and set it down near his head.

“Are you planning on falling asleep?” she asked him.

“No,” Aang said, shaking his head. “I just wanna look at it…”

“Well, don’t look too long. Sky bison need to land here, and they don’t much like landing on top of people.” Song turned around and started leading Lele back further into the temple, where a soft, warm bed was waiting for her, along with fresh water and powdered bamboo shoots mixed with rice, wheat, grasses, and plum blossom petals. 

Aang jumped up, airbending himself into a standing position, and started racing along the bridges between the temples, not giving the endless drop into the mist below him a second thought. 

Just as Aang was about to whisk his way up a staircase, someone caught the back of his collar, holding him in place. “Where do you think you’re going, young one?” the monk asked. 

Aang spun around, giving him his sweetest, cheesiest grin. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Who are you?” the monk asked.

“I’m Aang,” he said happily. “I’m from the Southern Air Temple. I came here with Nun Song.”

“Nun Song,” the monk repeated. “Yes I remember her. She came here several years ago, back when she was still feeding her child.”

Aang quirked an eyebrow up, not really understanding what he was saying. “Her child?” Aang asked. “When was this?”

“I just told you. Several years ago. Don’t you kids listen, anymore?” the monk asked. The monk shook his head and tsked, tucking his hands back into the sleeves of his robes. “You’d best be getting back to her. Don’t want you getting lost.”

When Aang didn’t move, the monk said, “Go on! Get! Go, go go!” until Aang was air scootering away, back the way he’d came. The monk tsked again and continued up the steps.

“Aang,” said Nun Song when he came air scootering back to her, “you’re back quickly.”

“Yeah. This cranky old monk wanted me to come back here,” Aang replied.

“Aang, it is not polite to speak of someone like that,” Song told him. Aang looked downcast, and stared at his feet. Song chuckled and said, “At least, not when they could hear you.” She chuckled again and rubbed his head until Aang was smiling again.

“Oh, Aang!” Song said suddenly. “There was something I wanted to show you!” Without another word, Song strode out of the room, making her way up the staircases with Aang in her wake, until she stopped at the very top of the temple where a giant mural was painted. 

“Wooooowwwww!” Aang said, his jaw dropping open and his eyes bulging. “This is incredible.”

“Do you remember the story I told you about the Prince and the Airbender?” Song asked him. “This is them,” she said, sweeping her hand across the air. “That is the airbender from the story, Monk Lhamo, and that is the princess from the story, with her daughter on her back, Princess Vedika, and her daughter, Siya.”

“Monk Lhamo?” Aang asked. “Like the one from our Air Temple?”

“Yes. He was born here, in the Western Air Temple, and he was named for the airbender from the story. But, when he was around fifteen years, he left this temple for the Southern Air Temple,” Song explained.

“Why?” Aang asked.

“He didn’t like this temple as much as he should. He didn’t like their philosophy of endless love and necessary love and love as the meaning of life. He thought that the Southern Air Temple would offer more profound disciplines. Disciplines that he agreed with. The Southern Air Temple offers detachment as its foremost principle,” Song said.

“So he left his home temple because he didn’t like something?” Aang asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Song said.

“So what? If you don’t like something you can just leave?” Aang asked, the wheels in his head turning. He scratched his head, trying to imagine someone just leaving behind their home because they didn’t like something.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” said Song, putting her hands on Aang’s shoulders and pulling him backwards, up against her robes. “But he was free to choose his own path. And the path he choose was our Air Temple, young airbender.”

“Huh,” was all Aang could say in reply.

“Don’t get too many ideas in your head,” Song said, giving Aang’s shoulders a small squeeze. “You can’t just runaway because you’ve got too many chores to do.”

“Of course not!” Aang said with a smile and a laugh.

“Now come on,” Song said, letting go of him and making her ways towards the stairs. “Even here, we’ve got things to do. Especially with the Yangchen Festival approaching.”

“The Yangchen Festival!” Aang said. “I completely forgot about that! How far away is it again?” Aang asked Song.

“Twelve days, and if the festival is going to be grand, we’ve got to start preparing now. Airbenders who are scattered throughout the West, visiting friends or simply on their own travels, will be coming here to celebrate with us,” Song said. With that, she began her descent down the stairs, leaving Aang alone at the top of the temple, staring at the mural that covered the walls, ceiling, and pillars.

He spun around again and again until he fell flat on his back again. And there he stayed until another nun stumbled upon him.

xxxxxxx

After Aang had finished tending to the baby sky bison, he flew back to the guest room that he and Nun Song shared. 

“Good evening, Aang.” Nun Song greeted him without turning around. She was too focused on reading her scrolls to turn around.

“Good evening,” Aang replied. “Nun Song, may I please go and visit my friend Kuzon?” he asked her as sweetly as he could.

“Hmm,” Song hummed.

Aang waited nervously, not even breathing, fearing that she was going to say no and have him go meditate or bring them both some tea. But finally, she said, “Alright. You may go.”

“Yeah! Woohoo!” Aang said, leaping into the air and spinning around. Then, he stopped, and composing himself, he bowed politely and said, “Thank you, Nun Song.” 

Song smiled, stifling a laugh. “It is alright, Aang,” Song said, “you have every right to be excited.”

Before Aang could walk out of the room, Song called him back. “Aang, before you go, there are some things we need to make clear.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“You can only stay with Kuzon for ten days. No more than that, but you are welcome to come back as early as you want. You must be here for the Yangchen Festival. When you leave, take your air glider. I want all the sky bison here. It is not that far, so you shouldn’t have any problems with getting there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aang said. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Song said, and spun around to look at him. “Have fun.”

“Can do!” Aang said, and rushed out to get his glider.


	13. Kuzon and Aang: Partners in Crime

"Those tattoos are awesome!" Kuzon shouted, spinning Aang's arm around around. "It goes up your spine!" Kuzon said as he circled around Aang, running his fingers up Aang's spine, tracing the blue line all the way up his back and over his bald head. "Your head feels so weird like that," Kuzon said putting both his hands flat on Aang's scalp.

"Told you they were pretty cool," Aang told him, giving him a beaming smile.

"Did they hurt?" Kuzon asked. "Did it hurt when you got your tattoos?"

"Yeah," Aang said. "A lot. But I don't hurt now." Aang waved his arms around and then started dancing around the room, smiling the whole time. "See? Completely at ease."

Kuzon turned around to look at his mother. "See, Mom? He got his tattoos at a young age and he turned out just fine!"

"Kuzon, we've been through this before," said his mother, not looking up from her cup of tea. "If you want tattoos, you're going to have to wait until you're an adult." She looked up at him then, briefly. "And you're the one who's gonna have to pay to have them done."

"Aw," Kuzon said.

"Don't be so down," said the woman sitting to his mother's left side. "I won't let my son get tattoos at all, no matter how old he is. Be lucky your mother is so understanding."

"Yes, Miss Kwang," Kuzon said, sighing and sitting down at the table.

Aang came to sit beside him. "What would you get a tattoo of anyway?" Aang asked Kuzon.

Kuzon said, "A big lion turtle on my back! Fierce and powerful and wise! Oh so wise!"

"Sounds cool," Aang said.

"Boys," said Kuzon's mother, standing up from the table, "Kwang and I are expecting more guests shortly, and I would appreciate it if we could have the house to ourselves."

"No problem, mom," Kuzon said, jumping up onto his feet. He reached down and yanked Aang off of the cushions, dragging him behind him. "We'll stay out of your hair for the entire night!"

"That's sweet of you," Kuzon's mother replied. Just before the two boys could escape out the front door, Kuzon's mother said, "Wait!" Walking up to Kuzon, she told him, "You forgot something."

"Really?" Kuzon asked her. "What?"

"This," she said, and gathered Kuzon in her arms, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Mom!" Kuzon said, blushing and glancing back at Aang.

"Oh, don't be such a boy," she said, pinching his cheeks. "Now, you two stay out of trouble. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Aang and Kuzon said in unison, and they ran out the door.

"Hey, Kuzon!" Aang shouted, "look what I can do!" He bent his air scooter and leapt on top of it, racing around Kuzon and spinning him around in a circle. Kuzon spun around and around with him until he fell down on the ground, his eyes still swiveling in his head.

Aang laughed at him. "Come on, Kuzon! Spin around with me!" Aang started scootering around in a circle again, with Kuzon in the middle.

Kuzon jumped up and firebent at his head, making Aang lose control and fly off his air scooter.

"Haha!" Kuzon said, and jumped over to him. "I got you!" he said, and put his foot on Aang's chest. Looking up at the sky and planting his hands on his hips, Kuzon said, "I hereby claim this airbender in the name of the Fire Nation."

They both burst out laughing, and Aang started rolling on the ground.

"Hey Kuzon," Aang said, and then bent a torrent of air directly at Kuzon. Kuzon stood his ground, but when the air stopped, his hair was sticking straight up on his head and his clothes were in disarray.

"Was that really necessary?" Kuzon asked, and started smoothing down his clothes.

"Sure. Why not?" Aang asked. Leaping back up, his rubbed Kuzon's head until his hair was a complete and utter mess.

"Man…" Kuzon said, trying to run his fingers through the strands. "I'm never gonna be able to brush this."

"Hey, don't despair," Aang told him, "we could always shave your head. Just like mine!" He smiled and his bald head practically sparkled.

Kuzon chuckled. "Yeah right," Kuzon said. "Like my mom would ever go for that."

"But you would look so handsome!" Aang said, running a hand over his head. "Just like me."

Kuzon chuckled again, and Aang laughed with him, slapping his shoulder. Kuzon gave Aang a playful punch in the shoulder, and Aang rammed his hip into Kuzon's side, sending him flying.

"Hey! No fair!" Kuzon said, and sent another blast of fire Aang's way.

Aang dodged it easily. "Missed me!" he yelled and stuck his tongue out at him. "Uh oh!" Aang had to jump ten feet in the air just to avoid Kuzon's next blast. "No fair!"

"That's totally fair!" Kuzon said. "Hey, watch this!" Kuzon firebent three balls of flame into his palms, and began juggling them.

"That's amazing!" Aang said, clapping his hands to his head. "I've gotta try that!"

"Well, then, here! Catch!" Kuzon said and tossed them over to Aang.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Aang said, doing his best to avoid the balls of flame. They landed at his feet, and Aang stomped on them to put them out. "Be careful with that!" Aang said. "You almost burned me."

"But I didn't," Kuzon replied, and clasped Aang's head in his arm, rubbing his head until it was even shinier. "Aw. Just not as much fun on a bald guy," he said.

"You've got that right," Aang said, and within a second, he had flipped Kuzon over, locked his head in his own arm, and started rubbing Kuzon's head until his hair looked like a tumbleweed.

"Aang!" Kuzon complained.

"Wow. We really are gonna have to shave your head, aren't we?" Aang teased. Kuzon pushed him and Aang released him.

Kuzon ran his hands over his hair, and he knew that Aang was right. It was either shave his head or spend twelve hours with some hair oil and a wide-toothed comb. "My mom's gonna hate this," he said aloud.

"Yeah, but once you're bald, you'll look like an airbender," Aang told him.

Kuzon's face lit up and he grinned at Aang. "Hey, if I look like an airbender, does that mean I might get to go see the airbender temples?" he asked Aang.

It wasn't the first time Kuzon had asked Aang this, and Aang had always said no. It was airbender tradition that outsiders not be allowed in or near the temples. They were only for Air Nomads, and breaking tradition wasn't to be tolerated. The first time Aang had told Kuzon this, Kuzon had begged and pleaded and insisted. Then, he turned so angry that Aang thought that he might have burst into flames like the prince from Song's story. But he hadn't.

"I don't know, Kuzon," Aang told him. "I mean, we've talked about this before."

"Yeah, I know, but this time I might be able to pull it off. Right?" Kuzon asked hopefully. He pressed his hands together and looked at Aang with puppy-dog-moose eyes, and Aang felt so guilty just then.

"Kuzon…" Aang said, slumping his shoulders.

Kuzon sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. Let's just get back to playing. Wanna play tag? Or maybe hide and explode?"

"Sure, we can play…" Then, an idea hit Aang square in the face, dropping into his mind straight from out of the blue. He jumped up into the air and spun around like a top. "I've got it!" he said, and grabbed Kuzon's arms. "We can sneak you into the Air Temples!"

"Great!" Kuzon said, jumping up with him. "How, though? Didn't you once tell me that the Air Nomads would recognize me as, you know, not an airbender?"

"That's the genius part!" Aang said, giving him a sly grin. "In about a week, there's going to be a festival. The Yangchen Festival! Airbenders from all over the globe…or the western part of the globe, or something…they'll return to the temples for the festival. They'll be so much chaos, you'll be able to sneak in and blend in just fine!"

"Awesome!" Kuzon said. "Am I gonna need to shave my head?"

"Yep," said Aang.

"Am I gonna need to paint an arrow on my head?"

"Nope," said Aang. "They'll just think that you haven't gotten them yet."

"Am I gonna need to get some airbender clothes?" Kuzon asked.

"Yeah," Aang said. "But I can get my hands on some clothes no one's using and sneak them back to you. By the time we're done, you'll look airbender enough to party!"

"Awesome!" Kuzon said, and clapped his hands together. "This is going to be so awesomely awesome I can't even take it!"


End file.
